


Earth Series

by ScarletDeva



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Because I need pilotbabies, Because Starbuck and Apollo TOTALLY Rode Again in Blood on the Scales, Because the last fifteen minutes of the final episode made me froth at the mouth, F/M, Fix-It, Oops, Sleeping on the job, When they say the gods have a plan they totally mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletDeva/pseuds/ScarletDeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You call this a happy ending? Lee and Kara don't. But real life isn't fiction so it ain't over till it's over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Earth Sometimes

He explores Earth.

He has no idea in retrospect what pushed him to suggest losing the tech. No conscious idea. But somewhere deep down he knows it was selfish. No tech, no comms, no way to save him, to contact him, to draw him away from this path. He’s going to walk the verdant plains, stroll the dense forests, cross lines of glittering water, run run run.

Alone.

Because just as deep down he knew then that she was done. Her mysterious disappearance was a shock on the outside. The inside was a grim, bitter satisfaction of being right. 

So he goes. Far and wide. Away. With only the phantom of her presence for company.

He talks to her sometimes. Only sometimes. She never answers because she isn’t there but sometimes he likes to pretend she responds anyway. If only while his fingers stroke languidly up and down his cock and he imagines it’s her hand instead, her mouth, the wet heat of her pussy. His imagination is good, fevered, the sound of her husky laugh egging it on, spurring it forth.

“Come on, come for me, flyboy,” she whispers sometimes and there’s soft grass below his bare skin, fiery sun above it and her nails graze down his abdomen before her palm glides to cup his balls, her fingertips resting loosely on the base of his cock. “Come hard. Say my name.” And that’s when she wrenches “Kara” out of him, her slightly roughened, warm fingers wrapping around him where he needs them most, up down, up down, slip slide, “Oh Gods.” Sometimes her mouth follows, with firm, sweltering pressure, her tongue flicking teasingly and occasionally her teeth nipping just lightly, never to pain but always enough to remind him that she’s dangerous. Not that he ever forgets that. 

It’s rare, too too rare when she rises above him and he feels the strong, tough muscles flexing under the tender skin of her thighs and that’s when he doesn’t respond anymore, not with coherence, not with anything but pure animal sound because she’s all around him and now he’s filling her and is full himself somehow, full to the bursting. “You like that, Apollo? Maybe I’m the real god around here,” she teases throatily.

He always comes before she goes. Before he admits again that she’s not really there. Comes, his body shuddering head to toe with a fire that starts behind his closed eyelids and spreads all over in thick, winding tendrils. She says a lot of things as he comes, “That’s right. Oh yeah. Come for me, baby.” She never says 'I love you.' But he hears it anyway.

And the sky above him is blue.

Blue.


	2. Earth Not At All

Kara Thrace was peaceful, accepting her fate, as she said goodbye to Lee. In a way, it felt good. Complete.

That only lasted for another moment and then she was on the rocky shore of a sluggish, gray river and she was pissed.

“What the frak?” she said and her voice echoed emptily in the air. She looked around and saw no one. The only movement was the water and… something in the distance. She leaned and squinted and the shape resolved itself into a small, wooden boat with a hooded figure inside it, steering it along. “Hello!” she called but the person did not respond.

She took another look around and then she was sure of where she was.

The river was Styx and the man in the boat was Charon. 

Just frakking great.

Risk your life, save the fleet and get death as a reward when the whole damn thing was over? She didn’t even get to see the epilogue. And the gods only knew what sort of mess Lee would get himself into without her.

She tapped her foot impatiently as she tried to figure out what to do and then caught something out of the corner of her eye. Something in the water. Then she was on her hands and knees, intently watching the images that floated hazily before her. Lee. All alone. Walking walking walking.

She had no idea how long she watched and no idea how long tears silently ran down her cheeks, didn’t even notice them until she brushed her face and found her hand wet.

He branded the Earth with her name, cried it out into the wind that spanned the continents and glided above waters, and this. was. all. wrong.

She got to her feet and the boat was close now but she still greedily drank in what the river was showing her. Charon docked and waited and she hesitantly went forward but as she lifted her foot to step inside, to start that final journey, the water began to turn, smearing away Lee’s face. Starbuck shook her head and decisively put her foot down.

On dry land.

“No thanks,” she said, adding, “frak no,” under her breath.

Charon lifted his head and all she could see inside the hood were his perfectly grey eyes. His voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You can’t escape the end,” he said.

She grinned. “Watch me.” She set her boot on the nose of the boat and shoved. Hard. It wavered for a moment then slid back. Charon only shook his head.

Starbuck winked.

Then she set off.

The landscape was dreary, sparse grass, rough ground and a sky of indeterminable color. There were no animals and no birds. No signs of life at all.

She kicked a small stone out of her way and started off on a bawdy drinking song about a man from Caprica and a girl from Picon, if only to fill the silence. She was quite sure if Lee was with her, he’d get that really faint blush on the tips of his ears and shake his head. He did the first time they went out drinking and she climbed on top of the bar and broke into the very same song.

It was lucky that she knew A LOT of bawdy drinking songs because she didn’t have to start repeating herself for at least four days – at least it seemed about that long and she had always had good time sense. It was helpful too that she never got hungry or sleepy, the big and only bonus of being dead.

What didn’t help was how boring the scenery was. Rocks and shriveled shrubs and the occasional mournful brook sliding quietly along.

If she wasn’t already dead, she might have just died from boredom.

Between songs, she wondered how Helo was doing and what everyone was up to. She was careful not to think about Lee because it just made her madder and there was no one handy to frak up.

So there she was, walking and walking and walking and never getting blisters but somehow after days or even weeks (because after a while she stopped counting) she lost her voice. She was just passing by a small lake so she sat down on the shore, swallowing harshly against her swollen glands, and braced herself for the images.

When they came it wasn’t Lee’s face she saw. It was the Admiral, sitting next to a freshly dug grave. The Chief, his face worn, with just trees for company. Baltar and Six digging up ground to start their farm. The formerly drunk bastard Tigh surreptitiously watching Ellen the Bitch pull a child into her lap and tell the little boy a story. Helo swinging Hera on up his shoulders as Athena carried over a bowl of mush. And everyone else she ever knew and everyone she had never met. The whole goddamn fleet fractured into small settlements and it was like everything she knew was dissipating in the depths of the water… in the crisp Earth air.

She smashed her fisted hand into the ground then academically examined the broken skin. Blood was seeping through, bits of dirt and small rock clinging on. She brushed herself off and was back on her feet. 

This time, though she couldn’t sing for a while, the silence wasn’t the same. There was still nothing audible but there was a weight to it, layers even, as if she was hearing echoes of echoes, tones rather than sounds, the intent of laughing and crying voices and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was going insane. Could dead people even go insane? But it didn’t matter because she had to get… somewhere and fix it. All of it.

Styx was far, far behind her now and it could have been a Monday or a Wednesday or maybe even a day she didn’t know the name of but she started to feel a subtle pull. She had picked her original direction at random and kept at it out of sheer Starbuckery and that tug was almost the same, just a few degrees to the right.

It could have been a trap or a challenge or salvation but she just shrugged and adjusted her course. Whatever it was, she was going to kick its ass anyway.

It was probably a good thing because soon the pull was stronger and stronger and she found herself running, booted feet thudding the ground, which was probably stupid because who in Hades knew how much farther she had to go to find whatever the frak it was.

Luckily the dead don’t get tired either so she ran for days, occasionally panting more for effect than out of real need. Finally the pull softened and that was lucky too or else she would have smacked right into the hill at the speed she was originally going.

A hill, huh?

That was different.

She eyed it warily, tried to look on either side, but after a few minutes decided to do what she always did – fly by the seat of her pants and come out on top anyway. She stepped into the cave and then clapped a hand over her eyes as intense light raged out into her face.

Gingerly, she spread her fingers just a tad and found it was gone and instead the cave opened onto an even dimmer world, a night with just the barest touch of starlight to illuminate her way. She let her eyes adjust and then carefully peeked around the entryway.

This was definitely not the Elysian Fields. No sunlight and frolicking souls to be had anywhere in sight. In a way, she would have been kind of disappointed if it was.

So… Tartarus or the Asphodel Meadows.

It didn’t look like a meadow of any sort either.

She looked around for something to use as a weapon and picked up a sturdy branch that lay nearby. She tested it for balance, nodded and set off, careful to silence her footsteps as she entered the land of the damned, following the again strengthening pull.

She missed the silence quite soon. It wasn’t that the denizens screamed continuously. No, it was much worse. They uttered the occasional, completely defeated moans that she could just barely hear and it set her teeth on edge. She tried to avoid looking, only glancing long enough to take quick stock of the situation so she could avoid any potential mission mishaps but sometimes it was hard to look away.

Sysiphus grunted, sweat running down the sides of his face as he maneuvered the impossible rock up the mountainside again and again. The flames of Ixion’s wheel licked at the dark skies and she could smell his flesh roasting, sweet and sickening as it blackened and curled up. And water slowly trickled out of the sieves the Danaides carried, each drop plop-plopping on the ground below their feet perfectly in time with their tears.

She shuddered and forged on, her grip punishingly hard on the branch. Even the air was thick with misery and she sometimes had trouble getting it down and that was the one thing the dead still had in common with the living because she gasped hard and fast to fill her lungs.

Then, in the gap of gloom of the trees something white stood out in the distance. When she got closer, she discovered a small but well maintained house. Since the pull hadn’t slackened, she figured that was where she needed to go and some part of her wondered if this would end up shattering her faith.

Her resolve didn’t falter however as she watched a young man clad in a classic chiton, the type she had only seen in history books, scurry out of the front door and then disappear into thin air. No, her resolve didn’t falter but this might be just a little harder than she expected.

Oh well.

She waited a few minutes and saw no one go in or out so she crept from tree to tree before she had to get out into the open area in front of the house. She was almost to the door when…

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be here,” a shrill voice came from behind her and she spun around, slightly adjusting the swing of the branch so that she cracked the young woman on the side of the head. Good shot. She went down with nary a peep.

And then, the Great and Fearless Starbuck went through the front door.


	3. Earth Actually

Long blonde hair swung as its owner threw herself at the white-painted door. A vicious shoulder ram later, the entryway was empty and she was barreling right into the green-tiled bathroom that smelled faintly of mint and pomegranate.

The woman soaking inside the oversized tub jerked up, toothpaste dribbling off her brush and onto her chin. Her pale gray eyes went wide and far away and then focused in. She put away the toothbrush and splashed herself clean.

“Hello Kara Thrace,” she said in a low, melodic voice. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The infamous Starbuck (the wilder half of Starbuck-and-Apollo) stumbled, face slacking in confusion. “What?”

“I must apologize. I don’t perceive time quite the same way as you do and I lost track of things and missed my staff making that particular error. Though I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from knocking out any more of them,” the other woman said, standing up, water sluicing down her body. Her dark hair stuck to her skin from her shoulders, down to her back and all the way to her feet. She stepped onto a rubber mat and wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel.

And then suddenly Starbuck found herself in a car that was familiar in some ways and yet very different than any of the cars she knew. She was strapped into the passenger seat next to the brunette, now clad in dark pants, green sweater and no shoes, who was calmly guiding the vehicle down a traffic-laden, curving road bordered by a dense thicket of ancient trees.

“…what the frak…”

“I think better when I drive,” the other woman explained and shot her a smile with impossibly white teeth. 

“Where are we?” Starbuck demanded.

“The future actually. The future your Lee is responsible for,” she said.

“Looks okay to me,” Starbuck commented.

“Maybe so… maybe so. It’s a future where Cylons and humans are one and they never even knew it could be otherwise,” the brunette said. “Except… one of them, a long time ago from now, said that if you don’t know the past, you’re bound to repeat it. And they don’t. Know the past I mean.” She paused as she took a tight curve, never slowing down. “Knowledge of your civilization died within three generations. So they don’t know anything about William Adama, his broken heart and indomitable spirit. Or Laura Roslin’s tireless faith and vision. Or Karl Agathon, whose ability to look past artificial differences and love a woman he should have shot on sight gave birth to their civilization. Or Felix Gaeta, who had a keen mind but whose spirit broke and whose choices brought him to a fate he couldn’t have imagined.” She continued, listing pilots, deck crew, civilians, person after person, some of whom Starbuck knew personally and some whose names she didn’t even recognize. “And they definitely don’t know about fiery Starbuck and the steady Apollo, two halves of one soul, whose exploits encouraged, succored and drove the Fleet through endless space until they found sanctuary.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“This is how the cycles repeat themselves. Ignorance may be bliss but we gave you humans free will and you can’t make a choice unless you understand your options,” the strange woman explained, an odd tone to her voice. 

Starbuck narrowed her eyes. “What do you want from me?”

The woman smiled. “The same thing you have already done for me. You must go back and guide your people, show them the way.”

“You… what am I?” she demanded.

“I thought that was sort of obvious really. You’re the best of what humanity has. A flawed, complicated creature who came from the dark and sought the light, and danced with death again and again to save her people. That was why you were chosen and I’m sorry for what I had to do but there was no other way you could have seen what I had to show you. We can’t walk amongst humans because we burn you. So you had to become the phoenix, burn and rise anew, so that you could be my avatar, my prophet. My voice.”

“Who are you?”

She smiled again. “Your people would call me a goddess.”

And then the world blinked and Kara Thrace was standing just behind Lee Adama as he outlined his ground-breaking idea to ditch all the technology and go back to nature.

“Oh, frak no,” she yelled and he turned around, shielding his eyes against the sun. 

“You can’t be here,” he said flatly. “You’re not here.”

She shrugged, favoring him with her best shit-eating grin, then drew back her elbow and popped him one. Sure I am, it said. Lee stumbled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and coming up with blood. He studied it for a second, then looked back at her just in time to get hit again. And I’m not letting you get away with this bullshit, this one added. She didn’t wait for him to figure out what was going on but spun around and went after Romo.

“No way are you chucking technology,” she told him as if it was a direct-from-the-Gods, do-it-or-die, no-choice-all-around order. “You want to lose everything we have and are? Be my guest. But you’re not taking the fleet down with you.”

“There is no fleet,” Romo replied slowly, stunned.

“You’re not taking down the fleet with you,” she growled and stalked off.

And before Romo could get an argument together or Lee could stop the birdies flying around his head, Kara Thrace rammed right through the crush of the survivors, every single one knowing who she was and, to most, it was as if the gods themselves walked among them. The word spread like arrows arcing in the sunlight.

“I think we lost that battle,” Lee said with bemusement.

Romo said nothing.

But that was alright because everyone else had plenty to say. And so it was dusk before Lee caught up with Kara again, his fingers wrapping around her elbow and just firm enough to halt the jab she aimed at his side. He made an excuse to the civilian she was talking to, probably a pretty thin one but the man didn’t get a chance to question him as he dragged her away.

She could have stopped him but then she remembered and… didn’t.

“You’re alive,” he said and it was still kind of a question.

“You got a problem with that?” she challenged and shoved the vision of him in fields, forests, alongside rivers… all those visions deep down inside. Because she heard every word and it wouldn’t happen. She was Starbuck and she said so.

He jerked his head, forcefully shaking no. “How… how are you alive?”

“None of your frakking business, Apollo,” she replied. There was no way she was going to tell him what she saw glimmering in the reflections in the River Styx, the images that started to fade when she lifted her foot to get in the boat. No way she was going to tell him where she went instead, about the roads she traveled and the small, white house she found and broke into. And no way at all was she going to share what that woman, that goddess (which goddess was she?) told her.

But she was going to hold her breath while she waited for his response.

It wasn’t verbal, but it spoke volumes.

Lee Adama crushed her in his arms, his grip bordering on painful, his breath heavy and ragged against her ear and he didn’t say ‘I love you,’ didn’t say a word, but she heard it anyway.

And then he let her go and it was like it didn’t even happen. Except that it did.

“I guess the Great Starbuck has some ideas on how to run civilization,” he offered.

“You bet your ass.”

So they didn’t dump all technology, and they didn’t spread out in a multitude of tiny settlements, but Baltar did take up farming and Ellen was still a bitch even if she mellowed out a bit and Romo was, kind of, mostly, in charge.

They built a sprawling village, log houses instead of tents and a big town square for the market and for social gatherings. They adapted what technology they could and feverishly tested everything they could find for any benefits it could hold.

It wasn’t the Colonies and it wasn’t Kobol and it wasn’t even New Caprica. They went back to metal tools and the most basic medications and a primitive government structure.

They didn’t have much but they did have knowledge. Knowledge they wrote down, turned into song, turned into fable. Knowledge they passed along to children and grandchildren and beyond.

And most importantly, at least to Kara Thrace, was that when Lee Adama cried out her name into the clear, blue sky, she was there to hear it.

And to respond.

And it really was her hand stroking him to passion that flared within his open blue eyes.

Thousands of years later, a brunette woman walked the streets of a city far removed from that humble beginning. Technology here was far beyond what Starbuck and Apollo had ever seen. And the culture was far different.

But their spirit remained.


End file.
